Wish You Were Here
by Lady Dragon Daiken Priestess
Summary: PG-13 for..I'm sure you can guess. Shonen-ai fic. Nothing worse than a few kisses. Based on Mark Wills song, "Wish You Were Here"


_**Disclaimer:** Digimon belongs to people who don't truly appreciate the beauty they have. Trust me, if it were mine, things would be vastly different. The song, 'Wish You Were Here' is performed by Mark Wills and is also used without permission. I **did**, however, change all the 'feminine' hints to masculine. *grin* Don't look so surprised. And please...don't sue, I have no money, though I will knaw the hand of anyone who tries to touch my anime DVD collection. _

**Additional note:** As far as I know, my dearest friend Cynthia first coined the idea of Daisuke as a fabulous artist. I know, I was there. *grin* 

**Wish You Were Here  
by: Lady Dragon**

"You're _what?_" Daisuke Motomiya was proud of how calm he sounded, when all he wanted to do was rip the airline ticket to shreds, ball them up and throw them over their balcony. "Have you forgotten what tomorrow is?" 

Ken Ichijouji sighed deeply, his amethyst eyes filled will regret. "Of course I haven't. Believe me, Suke-chan, if I had any choice in the matter I would _not_ be going. The last thing I want is to be separated from you on our anniversary." 

That was the last straw. "THEN WHY ARE YOU GOING?!?!" 

The blue-haired genius visibly flinched at the sound of betrayal in his beloved's voice. "Because I'm the only one who can. I've been trying to get out of this for a week-" 

"You've known for a WEEK!" The redhead's hands curled into tight fists, rhythmically clenching. 

Ken sighed again at how cold and unyielding the normally warm and vibrant chocolate brown eyes he loved to stare into, had become. "Hai. I _thought_ I had gotten out of going. But our distributor won't negotiate with anyone but me, and if I don't go now, they will drop our account. Thousands of jobs are relying on this trip, Suke-chan." His soft voice silently pleaded with Daisuke to understand he didn't want to leave. 

"Then why can't I go with you, Ken?" 

"The sooner I leave, the sooner I can return. Having you here is more incentive to wrap business up ad rapidly as possible. Besides," he added with a hint of mischievousness in his eyes, "This way you can make plans on just how you want to celebrate when I come home. Anything you want." 

"Anything?" Daisuke repeated, arching one of his eyebrows in silent inquiry. 

"Anything." Ken answered, his own soft tones overlaid with sultry promise. 

// _They kissed goodbye at the terminal gate  
He said, "You're gonna be late if you don't go"  
He held him tight, said, "I'll be alright  
I'll call you tonight to let you know"  
He bought a postcard, on the front it just said Heaven  
With a picture of the ocean and the beach  
And the simple words he wrote him  
Said he loved him and they told him  
How he'd hold him if his arms would reach_ // 

Ken smiled to himself as he waited for Daisuke to come back with their meals. He'd deliberately requested his lunch from a restaurant with a long line leaving the entrance. He'd accidentally stumbled across an old, out of print book showcasing the work of one of his boyfriend's favorite artists. A book he'd been trying to track down for almost two years. After sending Daisuke for lunch when his flight had been delayed for another three hours, he'd hesitated with the book half in his duffle bag. 

For some reason he hadn't wanted to wait and give it to the redhead in person. Instead, he picked up a postcard that reminded him of the city in California he was being forced to travel too, gripped the book tightly and hurried over to the post office. With any luck, Daisuke would get the book the same day he was due to return home. He'd quickly scribbled a few lines on the postcard and made it back to their seats before the artist realized he'd ever left. 

// _Wish you were here, wish you could see this place  
Wish you were near, I wish I could touch your face  
The weather's nice, it's paradise  
It's summertime all year and there's some folks we know  
They say, "Hello, I miss you so, wish you were here"_ // 

"Hungry?" Daisuke asked, dropping down into the seat next to him. "You'd better be, after what I went through to get you your sushi." 

"Famished." Ken lived up to his comment by practically inhaling his vastly overpriced meal, much to the redhead's amusement. 

"If only you'd eat _my_ cooking like that." 

"There is a reason I usually cook for the both of us, Suke-chan," he responded dryly, smiling to show he was only teasing. 

The time flew by, neither boy remember just what they talked about as they waited for the fateful call that would announce Ken's flight. 

And when the time came, Ken resolutely shouldered his duffel bag and stared down at his beloved Daisuke, once again memorizing his face. "I love you," he whispered fiercely, fueled by an urgency he couldn't understand. 

"I love you too," Daisuke responded softly, reaching up to place a tender loving kiss on his genius's velvety soft lips. 

Reluctantly, the violet-eyed man finally pulled away and walked backwards towards the gate, mouthing over and over, 'I love you.' 

"See you soon!" Daisuke called back cheerfully, waving like mad. "And I'll make sure to think of some way you can make this up to me!" 

Ken boarded the plane, settling into the comfortable leather chair with a soft sigh. _California **is** beautiful. I'll have to bring Daisuke there one day...Maybe I should have brought him with me._

The long fight seemed to go on forever, and not unsurprisingly he managed to fall asleep through most of it. As he was jerked awake by the planes rapid decent the last thoughts through his mind were, _Thank God Suke-chan isn't with me..._

// _She got a call that night but it wasn't from him  
It didn't sink in right away, ma'am the plane went down  
Our crews have searched the ground  
No survivors found she heard him say_ // 

After returning from the airport, Daisuke buried himself in his private studio and just painted. The canvas he was currently working on was a star scape of his beloved Ken standing at the edge of 'their' cliff, the Digital World spread out behind them in all its primal glory. Although he didn't want to admit it, a small part of him was glad this trip had come up. He needed the extra time to finish the painting. And while there was only the hinting of shadows left to add, it was the most tedious, time consuming part of the project; especially since the redhead wouldn't settle for anything less than perfectly realistic. 

Which was one of the many reasons why he didn't have a phone or clock in the spacious room. He hated to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. And after dozens of heated arguments over that very subject, he'd managed to talk Ken into using an actual answering service instead of just a machine to screen their calls. If it was _truly_ an emergency, the service would page him. 

He was so engrossed in the final touch-up of his Ken-chan's gift that his pager was actually on reminder beeping. "What the..." Reaching over to pick up the offending object he growled softly. "This had _better_ be important." Cursing softly he noticed it had actually been going off for almost half an hour, and that he'd been working for almost thirteen hours straight. 

Daisuke called the unfamiliar number back and almost hung up as he was immediately put on hold. _They wouldn't have paged me if it wasn't important,_ he reminded himself. 

"Hello, may I help you?" a tired voice finally asked. 

"I certainly hope so. I was left a message to call this number." 

"Your name?" 

"Motomiya Daisuke." 

There was a brief pause followed by a brief click, and the redhead almost snarled in frustration thinking he'd been hung up on. "Motomiya-sama?" 

"Hai?" he snapped. 

"There's been an accident." 

"A what? Who is this?" 

"I'm the director of the airline Ichijouji-sama departed for America on. The plane-" 

"He's fine, this is just a courtesy call, right? Since Ken-chan's a big celebrity and all...right?" Daisuke's soft words pleaded with the voice on the other end to agree. 

"I'm sorry Motomiya-sama, but the plane...while in a holding pattern for landing at LAX crashed into the Pacific Ocean. So far, there have been no survivors, although not everyone is accounted for as of yet. Please accept-" 

"NO SURVIVORS?" Daisuke screamed into the receiver, before taking a deep breath and continuing in a much more controlled tone, "Yet, right? So there's a possibility Ken's just fine." 

"Actually no," was the regret- filled response. "Ichijouji-sama has already been found..." The rest of his speech fell on deaf ears as Daisuke escaped from the horrifying words in the only way he knew how: he fainted. 

// _But somehow he got a postcard in the mail  
That just said Heaven with a picture of the ocean and the beach  
And the simple words he wrote him  
Said he loves and they told him  
How he'd love him if his arms would reach _// 

The last few days had been a blur. Luckily for Daisuke, Mrs. Ichijouji had also been given the same terrible phone call, and although grief-stricken, she'd had sense enough to call Yagami Taichi to check on her son's boyfriend. The still wild-maned former leader of the Digidestined had immediately dragged his blonde husband to the Ichijouji-Motomiya condo, and entered the too silent studio where they found Daisuke lying on the floor. 

For a heart-stopping moment, Tai had been afraid that they'd lost two teammates in the same day, but a quick touch to the redhead's carotid artery reassured him that Daisuke was still among the living. Matt had carefully hit the off button on the phone, needlessly commenting, "That explains the busy signal." 

And now, for the first time in days, Daisuke was alone in the apartment he no longer shared with his other half. He shivered at that thought. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly alone; his Ken-chan had always been around. 

Daisuke settled deeper in the plush leather couch he'd sweet-talked Ken into buying when they'd first bought their home and blinked back tears. "This isn't _fair!_" he screamed into the silence. Jumping to his feet, he dragged out the painting that was supposed to be an engagement present and stared through tear-blurred eyes at the face of his beloved. Dropping to his knees before the gilded frame he reached out with trembling fingers to touch the miniature jawbone. "Missed a shadow here," he whispered, before being interrupted by someone ringing the bell. 

He dragged himself to his feet and opened his door, staring in confusion at his doorman. "Good evening, Mr. Daisuke. You have a package, and since I was on my break, I thought I'd bring it to you." 

"Thank you," the redhead responded automatically, absently taking the proffered package and closed the door. He almost dropped it when he recognized Ken's writing on the shipping label; instead he gently placed it on the coffee table and stared at it, fighting tears. 

Finally deciding he couldn't wait any longer, he carefully opened the box and stared again, not even realizing that the tears he'd fought so hard to keep from falling were pouring down his cheeks. "Oh Ken-chan...you remembered." Daisuke reached in and pulled out the dusty, faded old book, hugging it tightly to his chest before he noticed the postcard in the bottom of the box. 

// _Wish you were here, wish you could see this place  
Wish you were near, I wish I could touch your face  
The weather's nice, it's paradise  
It's summertime all year and there's some folks we know  
They say, "Hello, I miss you so, wish you were here"_ // 

Later that night, Tai stopped by to check on Daisuke since the redhead was supposed to check in with him earlier. Letting himself in with the spare key he stared into the living room and chuckled softly. Daisuke was sleeping peacefully, a large book opened across his chest as if he'd fallen asleep reading, a picture held loosely in one hand. Walking over, Tai reached out and shook his friend's shoulder gently, intending on sending him to bed. Instead of waking, the redhead slouched bonelessly over, and something inside of Tai started to panic. 

Quickly reaching out, he checked for a pulse and flinched when, not only could he not find one, but at how cold the skin beneath his fingertips was. "No...oh no." He started towards the telephone when some deeply buried instinct had him reaching for the picture. He stared at the beautiful wave for a moment before turning it over and started to read. "Ken wrote this," he whispered to himself in surprise, before noticing the last two lines were underlined, and there were three words written at the bottom of the postcard by a different hand. "I'm coming Ken-chan." 

// _The weather's nice, in paradise  
It's summertime all year and all the folks we know  
They say, "Hello, I miss you so, wish you were here"  
Wish you were here_ // 

~Owari~ 


End file.
